


Vernet, Baroli Sector

by Mistress_Humble



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Clone Wars, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Love, Original Character(s), Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Recovery, Ratings: R, Refugees, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-03-18 22:57:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13691592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistress_Humble/pseuds/Mistress_Humble
Summary: Plo Koon and the 104th battalion are assigned to a relief mission on a tiny farming planet in Republic territory. The Separatists invaded and took over sections of the colony for no apparent reason, and they are there to rescue the civvies and find out what the enemy is after. Wyatt is a new Sargent assigned under Commander Wolffe, and although he has seen combat many times before, this will be his first relief mission directly involving civilians. Wolffe wants to test and get to know his Sargent, while Wyatt wants to prove to his superiors, his men, and himself that he is indeed worthy of the honors given to him. He seems to be well on his way to doing so when he encounters a feisty civilian woman who takes interest in him, and unintentionally leads him off his path of glory. Wyatt must decide which means more to him, love or duty, and see if he can figure out how to maintain both.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I tend to try to stay canon to the Clone Wars series and comics, but since somethings are left ambiguous, I fill in the blanks myself. 
> 
> Just a heads up on the time frame this takes place in: Wolffe has recently recovered from losing his eye, thanks to a run in with Asajj Ventress during the battle of Khorm, but it is before the relief mission to Allen. 
> 
> I have organized my clone troopers ranks a little differently, which I will explain below. 
> 
> A battalion is made up of 576 men (a commander/captain, 4 Sargents, 16 lieutenants, 64 corporals, and 491 troopers).  
> A company is made up of 144 men (a Sargent, 4 lieutenants, 16 corporals, and 123 troopers).  
> A platoon is made up of 36 men (a lieutenant, 4 corporals, and 31 troopers).  
> A squad is made up of 9 men (a corporal and 8 troopers).
> 
> And of course!! I do not own any of the rights to Star Wars, or the Clone Wars. All that goes to George Lucas and Disney now. But I can still have my little fun... :)

The Jedi council was very surprised when they heard tell of a small Separatist invasion on an unbecoming planet in the expansion region. Nothing remarkable happened in the Baroli sector, much less on Vernet. It was a terrestrial planet, with two moons and second from its star, filled with gargantuan mountain ranges, neverending plains, and compact forests. All the land and the meger 4,000 colonists seemed to be good for was farming. Nothing fancy, just grains and chorba root, both used in pastries around the Republic. But honestly, no one would really notice if they suddenly stopped exporting. Their contributions were so small to the galactic harvest that they were considered little more than a grain of rice in an endless sea. 

Which is why it was so strange to everyone that the Separatists would take any interest in it whatsoever. Technically, Vernet was a Republic colony, but retaliation was not particularly fast because the Jedi council had bigger things on it’s plate, like winning a war. Plo Koon did not question when he and his troops were assigned to clean up the mess. He was known to be a great strategist, and the council felt that he would be the most effective choice in getting the Separatists cleared out quickly and quietly, so the rural people of Vernet could go back to their simple lives. 

Master Plo Koon and the 104th Company, nicknamed The Wolfpack, arrived to a scene of organized panic when they landed. The civilians, it seemed, refused to go down without a fight. The edges around the establishment were littered with the dismembered carcasses of droids, although it was quite difficult to tell where the rolling mounds of the plains ended and the establishment began. 

“I should warn you, the colonists have hollowed out these hills and use them for shelter. Below them are an intricate system of tunnels, where the chorba root is grown. Using these tunnels, they can appear and disappear with ease, but if this settlement has been completely overrun, that means the droids can now do the same. Be on your guard.” Plo Koon debriefed his men. Then he added, almost as an afterthought, “We are close. I can feel them.” Kel Dorians were known to have telepathic abilities even without being Force sensitive, but because of his training, Plo Koon was rumored to be the best telepath among his people. 

“They have spotted us. Wolffe, tell your men not to shoot, we are about to have company.” Without missing a beat, a young man ran over the top of a hill, his eyes scanning his surroundings for potential threats. He nodded to Plo Koon in respect as he approached the patrol.

“You must be the promised Republic forces?” He said in a low voice. Plo Koon and the man exchanged information before he motioned for the general to follow him. Wolffe radioed instructions to one of his sargents, a man by the name of Comet, who would be in charge of the attack on the Separatist forces. Wolffe suppressed a jealous feeling in his chest. He wanted to be the one leading his brothers into battle, though he would not deny his good friend that honor. He simply did not want to be out of the action, to miss anything. Working with civilians, in his opinion, was a slow job with little important results. It was a job for shinies, not seasoned commanders. Nevertheless, he would follow the orders his General gave him. He knew the Jedi far too well to think that he did not sense his frustration, but instead probably meant this to be a growing experience. 

It would be the first relief mission for Wyatt, the first mission that wasn’t rushing into demolished buildings with blaster bullets flying. After the Battle of Khorm, the 104th battalion received new members to replenish their numbers, which had been recently depleted. Wyatt was new to the Wolfpack, a good sergeant with a sparkling track record, but Wolffe still felt the new clone was a shiny at heart. As strange as it sounded, Wolffe felt that you truly earned your stripes when you not only fought hard, but met the people you fought for. And Wolffe had already done that. He wanted to get back to the action now. 

Wyatt’s knuckles were white under his armor as he gripped his gun to his chest. His gut was filled with an unprofessional amount of excitement and anxiety, but he would not let it show. He felt he must be a beacon for his men, the perfect balance between aggressive and understandable, someone they could look up to and still feel like they could spend a Saturday night with him bar hopping and flirting with the local ladies. Even so, this particular mission was not one he was looking forward to for two very good reasons; for one, this would be his first relief mission, specifically working with civvies, and for two, he loathed being underground. It reminded him of the lost battle on Geonosis, when he was still a lieutenant and a shiny, the battle where he was separated from his men during a cave-in in the underground “bugger tunnels” as they called them. 

He spent a day and a half trapped under rubble, until he was finally excavated and rushed to the nearest field hospital. There he was told that he had received a transverse fracture to his sternum between the 3rd and 4th costal notches, as well as internal bruising from being trapped under heavy objects for so long. He had strained several muscles in his arms and left leg while trying to struggle free, but because he did not have a concussion, he stayed on Geonosis on sick leave for 5 weeks while his broken body sewed itself back together. 

His ribcage tightened around his lungs as he ducked down to enter into the underground hut, but was surprised by what he found. It was nothing like those damned bugger tunnels. Instead, the floor was neatly packed down and lined with stones, which seemed to faintly glow in the dim light. The walls of the tunnel sloped into a uniform arch over his head and stayed rigid and true as he followed his commander and general through the winding passages. The path lead them deeper into the ground, until they reached a cavernous common room, where a great number of civvies seemed to be temporarily lodged. 

“We noticed the strange rocks when we began digging deeper in sector 5, in order to make room for more chorba root, but since they were of no value to us, we typically dug around them and let them be. Eventually sector 5 was filled with these columns where we had simply avoided the rocks.” The young man shrugged to Plo Koon. “We had no use for them, and no reason to move them, but that's where most of the droid activity is centered. We speculate it has something to do with those rocks, but we can’t say for sure.” Plo Koon nodded before turning to commander Wolffe and muttering something to him. Then the Jedi and his young guide walked away, tending to other diplomatic business. Wolffe turned to his sargents and took off his helmet. 

“First things first, take off your buckets. Apparently it unnerves the civvies, makes them think we are some sort of droid relief force.” Sinker, Boost, and Wyatt removed their helmets and held them under their arms, shifting back and forth as they looked at all the distressed civilians, who huddled together in herds almost like animals. “Next off, we are going to begin to unload and distribute the disaster packs. Each of your companies will be assigned a sector, and you will be in charge of making sure the civvies are taken care of. Are we clear?” 

“Yes sir!” The clones replied in unison.

“Good! Sinker, I want your men on sector 2. Boost, sector 3. And you Wyatt,” he grinned at the newest of his sargents, “You get sector 4, closest to the action.”

“Thank you, sir.” Wyatt replied confidently, although internally he was not sure whether this was meant as a compliment to his skills, or a test to them instead.

“Sector 1 has been emptied and the civvies redistributed throughout the other three because it was damaged in the initial assault. All the sectors come together to form a pentagon, with a large center left filled with dirt for stability. Think of it like a nut around a screw.” Sinker snickered at the description, and Boost elbowed him. “Ha ha, I know, very funny, you can laugh about it later. Dismissed!” The sargents saluted and then turned to make the journey back above ground to return with their men and more supplies. Wyatt was relieved that the tunnel systems seemed to be at first inspection more stable and logical in their organization than the bugger tunnels, but that did not make him feel better about working with the civvies who lived in them. 

The colonists on Vernet were mostly human, with about 4,000 of them in total. They were considered simple people who lived simple lives, but since the Separatists had invaded that had changed. Wyatt was impressed by their ingenuity and level of organization, but most of all by how quiet they all were. The common room was full the dull noise of whispers, some basic mixed with hand signals he did not recognize. They seemed scared, but also curious and willing to learn, and it was that sense of them that made Wyatt a bit on edge. These people very much had a drive of their own, and would not be easily controlled if they did not want to be. He was just glad they were on the Republic’s side.


	2. Chapter Two

“Who are you?”

“I’m sorry?” Wyatt blinked at the woman in front of him. She still had the bowl of soup in her outstretched hands. 

“Who are you?” She repeated, her eyebrows furrowed deeply. “Soldiers of the Republic, of course, but you all look alike?” She gestured with the bowl, and he took it and began to eagerly spoon it into his mouth.

“We’re clones.” He said between mouthfuls. Wasn’t it obvious to her?

“Clones? But so many? Is that even possible?” Wyatt looked at the woman like she’d grown a second head.

“‘Course it is. Where have you been all this time?” She scowled and then snapped.

“Stuck underground on some force-forsaken rock, thats where. We don’t matter to the Republic, so news gets here very slow, if it reaches here at all.” She walked away and continued handing out bowls of soup to various colonists and clones. Wyatt felt his face flush. He felt very ignorant for saying what he had. It just never really occurred to him that there would be reaches of Republic space that were basically unaffected by this war. 

His face was also warm because a woman had just approached him. Of course, he had seen women before, and talked to some on occasion, but they seemed more myth to him than reality. This was the way it was with most of the clones. Kamino was a place filled only with the harsh faces of their (only male) instructors, and Geonosis seemed devoid of anyone save the clones, Jedi, and the droids they fought, plus the occasional bugger swarm. Wyatt had seen Anakin Skywalker’s padawan once, a young female Togruta, but that was from quite a distance. He had also talked to a handful in bars while they were on shore leave between planets, but it was always him who initiated conversation. He told himself not to think anything of it, that she herself had pointed out that they all look the same anyways. Why would she bother talking to him except to ask a simple question? 

After finishing every last morsel that was given to him, Wyatt had an hour and a quarter until he and his men had to be back on the front lines, clearing hall after hall of droids in sector 1. It hadn’t been long before Comet had called for reinforcements, and since his men were the closest, Wyatt had responded quickly. They had now been fighting for almost eighteen hours, so the men were taking turns filtering in and out for rest breaks. 

The situation was very tense with all the civilians around. The only reason they were still there was because there was nowhere for them to be evacuated to, and to try to get them from the settlement to a landed ship was too risky, because the battle had moved partially above ground as well. The best way to handle the situation was to keep the civvies calm and quiet while the clones cleared away at the droid forces. 

Wyatt wandered to the designated sleeping area for the clones. They would be laid out on mats with blankets, just like the rest of the civilians, who were quite generous in sharing their bedding with the troops. He stretched out on the ground and asked a fellow clone to wake him when their rest was over. His eyes were closed before he had even settled in.

***

“Go, go, go!” Wyatt waved his men forward as they stormed out from behind their cover, surrounding the droids by seemingly coming out of the woodwork. Taking them out was another thing. The droids did not care about the structural integrity of the tunnels around them. In fact, sometimes they purposefully caused caveins to trap and kill the clones. The troopers on the other hand were told to keep as much of the sector’s structure intact as possible. This meant every blaster bullet had to count. Wyatt had taken to using python formation and surrounding the droids before taking them out, sometimes using blasters and other times using droid poppers. It was tedious, and the rate of injury was high, but it got the job done.

Wyatt lead his men silently to the next level, but it seemed there was no need to sneak. The level was deserted, the growing chorba roots trampled under the feet of long gone droids. Even so, Wyatt had them check every square inch of the place.

Just as the squad prepared to ascend to the next level, the ground above them shook with an explosion. Dust rained down from the ceiling, and the clones turned on their helmet lights as they automatically raced up. The level was dark and full of the debris of the floor above. There was no sign of movement, biological or otherwise, but the clones searched for any possible casualties anyways. 

None of them noticed the charges hidden neatly within the debris, but they did notice the dusty white of clone armor.

“Sir, we’ve got a man down!” 

“Start to dig him out!” Wyatt ordered, trotting over to help work the wounded soldier free. He was just close enough to see the men look curiously at the empty armor they had unearthed before the room filled up with light and heat.


	3. Chapter Three

The smell of moist soil soothed Wyatt’s burning nostrils. He was grateful to feel his chest still rise and fall, no matter how laborious it was to move it. His eyelids ached and tingled when he opened them, and patches of his skin felt like they had been left out in the sun too long, specifically around the joints of his Mandalorian armor. Other parts of him felt like they had been seared with a blowtorch. 

The room he was in was lit by a lone lantern, but from the curvature of the walls he could see he was still underground. He wasn’t sure where he exactly was, but it wasn’t the battlefield. If anything, this seemed to be a cozy den, perhaps a civvies bedroom repurposed into a hospital.

He dared not try to move, preferring to remain in ignorance of the extent of his injuries. Knowing now that he was safe and no longer buried, he allowed himself to close his eyes and drift back to sleep until his services were needed again.

***

He was stirred to his senses by the feeling of someone carefully removing the blanket he was tucked under. Through blurry eyes and dim light, he could make out the shape of a young woman kneeling over him. He attempted to greet her, but all that escaped his throat was a dry wheeze.

“Ah, you are conscious,” a gentle voice laced with the trademark Vernet accent whispered. “Please, do not move, you have been burned.” Warm fingers traced over his mouth before inserting a tube carefully between his lips. “Drink this, you will recover.” The flood of lukewarm liquid down his throat made Wyatt’s eyes close in relief. He had not realized how parched he had been.

“How…” he grunted, “How bad is it?” His eyes traced over the soft features of her face as she opened a small jar and dipped her fingers into it. Upon looking down at himself, he was first mortified to see himself laying without a stitch of clothing on. The woman did not seem phased by this, and began to rub some sort of cream around his collarbones. His body was mostly shielded from the blast, but he had second degree burns along where the joints of his armor had been. He hated to think of how raw and tender that skin would be once he had to get back into the armor, much less fight in it. 

“It is not bad. You will recover and be able to fight again soon.” He focused on her face to try and keep himself from feeling so exposed. Her skin was pale and creamy, and her round cheeks framed a soft nose. He could see even in the low light that she had bags under her eyes and that her darker eyebrows were drawn together in concern. Her hair, which had been secured back into a bun, was starting to come undone and hang around her pretty face. Wyatt had a sudden urge to tuck it behind her ear.

“You look worried. I sure hope you aren’t sugarcoating your answer.” Wyatt said in a light tone. 

“I’m not. Something else is on my mind.” She dipped her fingers in the cream again and began to rub it around the joints on his shoulders and arms.

“You can tell me, if you’d like.” He joked with a light smile. “I won’t tell anyone.” She closed her eyes briefly and grinned. Her teeth were not perfectly straight, but they were evenly shaped and suited the rest of her unique look. 

“Your men asked about you.” She stated quietly. “They knew you had been in a cave-in in another battle previously. They were very worried about your state of mind.” 

“Eh, I’d say I’m holding up alright. I’ve got a pretty lady taking care of me.” Wyatt blushed when she laughed. He didn’t know why he said that. He looked away when she began to rub the ointment into the burns on his hips, which traveled dangerously between his legs in the outline of his groin plate. He twitched under her warm fingers as they grew closer and closer to his manhood. To his horror, he could feel his body responding to her gentle touch. 

“P-please..” He reached up a hand and brushed hers away from his aching skin, turning his body away in embarrassment. “Give me a moment to regain my composure.” He tried to will his growing member to subside, but to his disbelief, the woman did not turn away.

“Do not be ashamed, it is a normal and healthy reaction. When you are ready, I will finish that area.” She casually began to rub the cream onto the burns on his knees. It took every ounce of self control Wyatt had to calm himself, and he kept his eyes closed as she finished the last of it. As she prepared to leave, he felt compelled to express his feeling of gratitude. 

“Thank you, ma’am” he whispered as she pulled the blanket back over him.

“Please, call me Polli. I will be nearby if you need anything,” she smiled as she stood and quietly left him to his thoughts.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: this chapter has small sections that reference past sexual abuse/rape

Over the course of the first night Wyatt’s burns began to blister. He was not sure what to do, except to lay still and wait for Polli to come check in on him. He was awake for most of the night, or what he assumed was night, and spent his time trying to keep his mind off his current situation and the pain. 

His head was foggy when Polli came in to check on him a second time. She appeared to be rested and more cheerful that the day before. Her hair was brushed back into a simple braid, and she wore a beige tunic that came to her knees and was secured around her waist with a strip of brown cloth tied into a tasteful bow on her hip. She carefully pulled back the blanket, and he watched her face as she struggled not to wince. His flesh was simply pink in some places, but in others it was raw, red, and weeping, which she told him was normal. The blisters that formed were misshapen and pregnant with fluid. Wyatt was simply thankful he only had these burns on his front. 

The worst of them were in his ankles, knees, and hips, all the places he wanted to bend to get into a more comfortable position. Polli sat for a handful of moments, looking over his burns and sighing to herself through her nose. 

“So what's the situation, Doctor?” Wyatt joked, trying to lighten her mood. “Are my legs gonna fall off?” She looked at him wryly. 

“I'm sorry to tell you that I am not officially a doctor,” she murmured softly. “I am a healer in training. We do not usually have wounds like these in the colony, and I am trying to figure out how to use our limited resources to help you recover in the fastest way possible.” She sat up on her knees. “And what I think you need now is a good cleansing soak. Lucky for us, the bathhouse is a very short walk from here.” Excusing herself, she darted out of the room and quickly returned with a large hospital gown and a towel. “You and I are going to have to work together to get you there.” Polli set down the items and squatted beside him. “It won't be easy. Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself to keep your mind off it?” His arm twitched when she gingerly draped hers over his shoulders, gripping one of his hands as she helped him to sit up. 

“Well…” he hesitated. He wasn't sure what to say. “My, uh… designated number is CT 4899, but the guys all call me Wyatt.” 

“Wyatt, huh? How'd you get that name?” She grinned and helped him to bend his knees, one at a time, until he was ready to stand. She mumbled a quick “one, two, three” and then they worked together to slowly raise him up from the floor. He hadn't realized how small she really was until he reached a standing position. All clones were six feet tall, and their weight ranged from 183-185 lbs of solid muscle, with an average bpi of 8 percent, but Polli barely reached 5 foot 3 inches, and from the way she grunted as she lifted him, he guessed he outweighed her by a good 65 pounds. She was tiny next to him. 

“I asked a lot of questions, specifically ‘why’s that?’ And I guess it just morphed into Wyatt over time.” She had him put a hand on the wall while she grabbed his hospital gown, although he was pretty sure he was stable now that he was standing. She nodded as she slid the sleeves over his arms and walked behind him to tie the strings in the back. 

“Continue.”

“Uh… I am a Sargent under commander Wolffe. You'd know him if you saw him, he has this big scar down the right side of his face and a silver synthetic eye.” 

“Yeah, I think I've seen him around.” Polly picked up the towel and slung it over her shoulder. Wyatt blushed when she carefully guided his arm over her shoulders so that he leaned on her, and he couldn't help the quiet gasp that escaped him when she put her other hand on his back. This was the closest he had ever been to a woman before. “You ready to try and walk now?” He nodded, his lips pursed to a thin line. Delicately, he took a step forward, and hissed at the stinging pain in his joints, but he was surprised that it wasn't as bad as he had thought it to be. 

“I was trained to be a Lieutenant on Kamino, my homeplanet, and uh…” they had started a slow shuffle through what he assumed was Polli’s house. Curtains hung in doorways, some opened and some closed, but he could see that he was not her only patient. Clones in various states of consciousness lay on mats in different rooms, some with blaster wounds and others with broken limbs. He realized now the reason why he had been kept separate from them all; his wounds by far were the worst of them in here. He recognized a trooper from his company with a broken arm and gave him a nod in silent greeting. “My first battle was on Geonosis, where the war began. My men and I were in charge of capturing a large portion of the capital city. I'm proud to say we achieved our goal.” Polli smiled politely and waved her free hand in front of what he assumed to be the front door, and to his surprise it opened. From the design of the door, he assumed it was automatic, but the gesture caught him off guard and reminded him of Plo Koon. “I got my first tattoo on Geonosis too.” 

“You have tattoos?” Polli looked up at him as they shuffled out of her dwelling and into what appeared to be a main hallway, like an underground version of an apartment complex. 

“Yeah, one on my hip…” he paused momentarily. “I don't know if you can see it under the burn.” There was silence between them as they walked to the end of the hall and turned right. Wyatt could feel the air was humid and getting warmer, so he assumed they were getting closer to the bathhouse. 

“They have converted the small children's chamber into a place where the wounded can be washed.” Polli explained, the ground under their feet transitioning to dark, cool stone. “Mothers would usually come in here to wash their babies, so the steps are small and the pools are shallow.” They entered a large room which looked like it had once been part of a natural underground hot spring. Upon closer inspection, Wyatt noticed that all of the structures were man made, from the everflowing showers of warm water to the deep baths that were built like luxury stone jacuzzis. All of the water eventually flowed to one side of the room, where it disappeared into a tasteful hexagonally plated drain. Polli commented with a hint of pride in her voice “All of the water in the bathhouses is constantly filtered, sanitized, and reused. We have it down to a science.” He nodded absently. It seemed strange to him that so many people would be comfortable bathing and being naked in front of each other. He assumed, and rightly so, that once children were old enough to wash themselves, they would go with one of their parents to either the men's or women's bathhouses. The clones back on Kamino had public showers, but that wasn't uncomfortable because they were brothers, and they all had the same body anyways. It was intriguing to him that an entire settlement did not have any issue with gender-separated communal nudity. 

It only then occurred to him that Polli was not going to leave. His face flushed at the thought, but he did admit he would require help because of how difficult it was for him to bend his arms with the burns on his joints. She brought him over to a pool with a small staircase into it. It seemed perhaps to be around four feet deep or so. He tensed slightly as she began to undo the ties on the back of his hospital gown. 

“The soap I will be using should not irritate your burns, but you must tell me anyways if you are in any sort of pain or discomfort from the washing.” She helped him to carefully walk down into the warm water and sit on a submerged ledge. Polli undid the bow on her belt and neatly set it aside before shrugging off her tunic. Underneath she wore a simple undershirt and modest boy shorts. Wyatt looked away as his breath quickened. Her flesh was pale and oh-so-soft in the dim light, and it crossed his mind that he would like to know what it felt like under his hands. From the pocket of her discarded tunic she took out a bar of plain soap and sat on the edge of the pool next to him. She lathered the bar between her hands, and then began to spread it over his neck and back. Wyatt closed his eyes, unsure of what else to do other than sit with his hands on his knees. Her hands were small, warm, and soft as she gently washed his shoulders. He felt his heart beating against his rib cage like a drum as she gently pulled one of his arms out of the water and began to wash that too. The sensation of it all became too much when she reached his hands, and he internally groaned as he felt himself begin to grow hard. He could smell her as she helped him to wash his chest, getting in the water with him and sitting on the edge of the pool. A deep part of him wanted to pull her fully into the water with him, to feel her soft body against his own, to make her feel as wild as she made him feel, but he did his best to keep that part buried. However, he could no longer hide from her the fact that he was aroused. Polli’s cheeks were red as she handed him the bar of soap. 

“I… I am sorry… could you please wash yourself from here down? Be gentle with the skin.” She quickly got out of the pool, refusing to meet his gaze. “You haven't done anything wrong, please don't think that you have. It's just…” he could hear her voice shake as she sighed. “Someone… used me… used my body… when I was young, barely a woman… I am still recovering from that trauma…” she sat with her back to him, her legs draped into another pool. “Take your time, and let me know when you are finished.” The meaning of her words sunk in as Wyatt quietly washed the rest of himself. Someone had taken advantage of Polli. Someone had hurt this sweet girl, had manipulated her, and now she was afraid. Anger burned in him, anger that someone would dare to blemish the trust she once had for her fellow man, but also shame, that he had unintentionally brought that pain to the surface. He knew it was not his fault, but that did not stop the ache he felt in his heart. 

By the time he had finished washing what he could reach, his nerves, and urges, had calmed themselves. He stood up and began to take the stairs up out of the pool. Polli turned around and quickly got to her feet, grabbing the towel and wrapping it around his shoulders once he was back on dry land. She urged him to be careful with the thin skin on his burns, but was not satisfied with his gentle pattings with the towel, so she took it from him and wrapped it around her hand and began to dab at the angry red skin delicately. Once she had him dried off enough, Polli helped him back into his hospital gown. 

“Let's get you back while your skin is still soft from the water. Now we need to start bandaging it, and that is easier to do when the skin hasn't dried out yet.” Wyatt felt more mobile on the journey back, but felt his emotions sink when he remembered he would have to lay down again. He did not want to be stuck in one position for what felt like eternity. It was torturous. 

She laid down more padding for him before helping him into a comfortable resting position. As she applied the cream to his burns and bandaged them, she kept her eyes downcast. At last, Wyatt couldn't take it anymore. 

“I'm sorry for making you feel uncomfortable, Polli…” his voice was barely more than a whisper. When she looked up at him, her eyes were shiny with tears.

“You did nothing wrong. Please do not feel bad.” She gave him a very light peck on the cheek. “There is nothing wrong with you, ok?” 

“Ok,” he replied, more for her sake than his own. The room felt hauntingly empty when she left this time.


	5. Chapter Five

Plo Koon was disturbed when the samples of rock came back from the lab tests. His suspicions were confirmed, they were indeed large deposits of Kyber crystals. Yes, they were the key ingredient in making a lightsaber, but they also had a different use, one that was hidden from the general public. In order to create the almost infinite supply of energy needed to make the jump to lightspeed, republic and separatist ships used Kyber crystals. When exposed to specific rays of light and frequency of sound, the force-sensitive crystals emitted a seemingly endless supply of electricity, which could then easily be harnessed and put to good use. Or not so good use, if the separatists got ahold of this much. 

But what was even more disturbing was how the separatists came to find this deposit. Most of the colony didn't know what the shiny rocks were, but since the droids got here first, that means that not only was there someone in the colony who understood what Kyber crystals were used for, but they were also deeply loyal to the opposing side. This was not only a battle for resources anymore; this was now a mole hunt. 

***

When Polli came in to check on Wyatt in the morning, she was holding something fluffy and wiggling in her arms and wore a big smile on her face. 

“Look who's come to visit!” She squatted down next to the clone and put the creature down. It was some kind of bird, or appeared to be related to one by the structure of its thin and naked legs. It had large black eyes and a long thin beak on the front of its face, which it opened and closed slightly in what he could only describe as curiosity. It's body was strange and armless, and was covered in what he discovered to be very fine feathers and not fur at all, and from the way Polli cooed and stroked its neck, he assumed it was a pet of some sort. 

He and his fellow clones did not understand many aspects of civilian life, but pets were most commonly held as the strangest thing a civvy could own. Wyatt tried to smile politely and cautiously held out his hand to the animal, which cocked its head to one side and a long, thin tongue flashed in and out of its beak as it licked him. He nervously glanced up at her, hoping that this was a normal reaction for the creature to have, and from the calm and cheery look on her face, he assumed it was. 

“This is Bub, he's one of the communal pets in the colony. He's a Flerdge, and they get to live here in exchange for keeping the soil we plant chorba root in worm-free. And he's a very good boy, yes he is!” Polli made kissy noises and stroked its forehead just above the long beak, and Bub trilled in response. Wyatt wasn't as fond of the Flerdge as she was, but the way she coddled it was very cute, so he took more to watching her than the pet. When Bub began to try and climb up on his blanket-covered chest, she quickly picked him up and set him aside, telling him in a baby voice that was a “no-no” and he should “go bother Spark or something.” Bub blinked his big eyes and seemed to happily trot out of the room on those gangly legs of his. Polli laughed before turning back to Wyatt, her face growing steadily more solemn. She pulled back the blanket and looked at his burns. The skin on the blisters was thicker and had turned a sickly brown color, but the skin around them was no longer wet and weeping. In places along his hips and knees, the flesh had obviously swelled, but there was no sign of infection that either of them could see. 

“Your blisters will pop in the next day or two, and then the old skin will fall off and the new skin underneath will come to the surface.” Her face was peaceful as she changed his bandages and applied more ointment. “The blisters are the nastiest part, but you need to make sure you do not pick at them, as tempting as that may be. That could open your body up to infection, and then things could get a lot worse.” She sat back next to him and smiled. “So far, I'm very impressed by how you're healing! All I can say is, keep it up.” 

“Thank you, Dr. Polli,” he grinned at her. Their eyes met and they were silent for a moment. 

“Oh, that reminds me, I have someone else for you!” She quickly got up and walked out of the room before returning with a few books in her hands. “Now that your elbows aren't so raw, I think you're in good enough shape to read some books. They're all in basic, but they're all about the history of the republic.” She handed the stack of books to him and sat down beside him. “I hope that's okay.” 

“It's wonderful, thank you!” He was truly happy that he had something to do now, although it wasn't so bad to just sit down and doze either. That was not an opportunity he often got. 

“If you don't mind,” she looked at the well-worn cover of the books, her cheeks slightly pink. “I'd like to stay in here with you and read too.” 

“I’d love some company,” he replied, his heart pitter-pattering in his chest. She smiled and excused herself to get her own book, and when she came back she settled herself on the ground next to him on her stomach. Wyatt felt that this simple and platonic act was somehow very intimate; they could both relax and do what they enjoyed quietly in each other's company, which was a rare treat for both of them.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: feels, fluff, and smut ahead!

Polli’s eyes were red and swollen the next morning when she came to change his bandages. Wyatt put down the book he was reading and sat up, his face full of concern. Instead of immediately starting her task, she sighed and sat down on the floor, bringing her knees to her chest and resting her forehead on them. 

“Wh-what's wrong?” He reached out a hand and placed it tentatively on her head. She leaned into his touch, raising tear-filled eyes to meet his own. 

“There was a particularly big explosion today on the surface, and a large number of injured clones came in to the emergency care center…” her voice trembled, and Wyatt felt a sinking in his stomach. “I… we couldn't save them all… I know logically I can’t… but…” she burst into tears, her breath hitching in aching sobs. 

“Polli…” he scooted closer to her. “We are soldiers, it's what we are meant to do. We die so that others can live.” 

“But it's wrong!” She looked up at him, her pretty face splotched in tears and pain. “You never asked for this! You didn't sign up to fight for us! You didn't ask to have all this… this death thrust upon you!” She leaned into him and he wrapped his arms around her, his face red, but he greatly understood her frustration. What had been done to the clones wasn't fair, but there was nothing they could do to change it. He could feel her light frame shake against him as he stroked her hair. “You are all good men, but they… it is easy for them to dehumanize you because you all have the same face. But when a mother has twins, she doesn't think one is any less important than the other simply because they look the same! They are still her children!” He saw a deep rage in her eyes, a side of her he had never witnessed before, or could even have guessed existed. He knew the fury in her wasn't just about the clones. It was about a deeper, universal sense of injustice and selfishness that shaped the worlds they lived in today. “It's wrong, what they do to each other, its shameful! They deprive each other of their very lives!” She looked into his eyes, and he saw how tired her soul was. Although Polli was still a young woman, perhaps 19 by Wyatts estimation, she had seen and been subjected to too much. Her heart ached for a freedom it could never have because of what had been done to her. She clung to him until her tears subsided and she had stopped shaking, and Wyatt felt hesitant to let her go when she pulled away to wipe her face clean. 

“I… I am sorry… thank you for listening to me…” she looked at her hands in her lap, her face flushed in embarrassment. He nodded and put a large hand over her small ones. She was silent as he changed his bandages, save to tell him that they would need to take a trip to the bathhouse to soak his blisters in the evening. 

***

Wyatt’s blisters began to burst as they walked to the bathhouse. Luckily, Polli had brought extra towels this time, which they carefully pressed against his oozing flesh. She also brought along a shaving kit, joking that if he went any longer without shaving, his face would start to look like a Wookie. The clones could grow thick beards if they wanted to, but most kept themselves clean shaven and their hair carefully styled. It gave them more of a sense of individuality. Wyatt kept usually kept his face bare and his hair in a classic crew cut, but over the past few days of being mostly immobile, his beard had started to grow out. He was greatly looking forward to getting rid of it. 

He set himself up with a mirror and a handheld razor by one of the classy heated waterfalls while Polli soaked her feet in the warm water of a pool nearby. Slowly, and with great care and precision, Wyatt shaved his face and neck as he had so many times before. It felt good to be smooth again. When he turned around to disrobe himself and get in the water, he saw Polli in one of the pools, her head back and eyes closed in relaxation. His face grew warm when he saw her tunic and boyshorts folded neatly by the towels. Likewise he undressed until he was completely naked, but he decided it would be best to slip into the pool next to hers. It would seem a bit too… ambitious if he were to get in with her, he thought. 

He could feel himself grow hard as he watched her lay there, her petite chest rising and falling steadily under her wet undershirt, which just barely covered the apex of her thighs. Her face was so tranquil, her lips so plump, he simply wanted to devour her. But instead he grabbed a bar of soap and began to wash himself, turning around in hopes that she wouldn't catch him gawking at her. 

“Wyatt…” her quiet voice murmured his name, which echoed off the nearly silent bathhouse. “Have you ever been in love?” His back was to her, and she couldn't help but peek at it. He was just as magnificent as she remembered, his strong neck and shoulders framing a beautiful spine, perfect dark skin gliding over hardened muscle. She looked away, her face flushing and her womanhood tingling. She felt the begin heat of arousal pool in her belly. 

“I…” he began, putting down the bar of soap and gently splashing the water over his sudsy body. “I don't really know. I'm not really sure what it's supposed to feel like.” 

“I've heard love hurts…” her voice was sad. “It hurts but it's supposed to be a good thing. It's supposed to feel good, too.” 

“So I've been told.” His back was still to her when he heard her get up out of the water. 

“How do you…” her voice was closer now, and he felt the water around him ripple. She was getting in the pool with him. He felt his cock twitch in nervous excitement. “How do you know, I mean really know, if you're falling in love.” Wyatt was frozen. His body tingled, and he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. Should he turn around to face her? Would that make her uncomfortable? Just as he had decided to turn, he felt her warm hand on his shoulder, caressing up to his neck. He couldn't help himself as a small moan escaped his lips and he leaned in to her touch. He put his larger hand over hers, and slowly turned to face her, and she did not stop him. Her eyes were wide and vulnerable, and her hair was wet and tangled, plastered to her shoulders just like the undershirt was to her small body. He could see her knees shaking and her hardened nipples through her shirt. He felt himself twitch again, and it took all he had not to press himself into her right there. 

“I suppose…” he began to lean in closer, her eyes focusing on his lips “it might feel something like this…” he mumbled, holding her hand to his chest, pressing it over his wildly beating heart. She leaned up and kissed him softly, her plump lips moving over his. Wyatt had never been kissed before, but as she moved her mouth against his, it came naturally to him. She pulled back, her face flushed and her lips tinted pink, and with half lidded eyes she brought his hand over her heart. He could just barely feel the curve of her breast on the palm of his hand, and he ached to move it lower. She looked up at him, her mouth slightly open as her breathing quickened, and with tentative, slow movements, she brought his hand lower, shifting it to cover the swell of her breast. Wyatt moaned and nearly came on the spot, his manhood throbbing almost painfully in desire. He cautiously squeezed her, feeling her hard nipple against his palm and her heartbeat through her flesh. Polli twitched, her eyes closing and her mouth opening wider into a little pink “O”. Thinking he somehow had caused her pain, he pulled back and asked “are you alright?” Polli swallowed and nodded. “I don't want to hurt you, or scare you…” he looked away, feeling awkward and embarrassed. 

“You didn't hurt me…” she sat up on the ledge of the pool, and he peaked between her thighs to see her swollen folds. Polli reached for him and pulled him close to her, so he stood between her legs, her hands on the unburned parts of his hips. “It felt good…” her eyes pleaded for him. “Please… don't stop.” 

Wyatt was greatful the water came up to his belly button so that it would at least partially obscure his raging hard-on. Even though she had barely touched him, he was still so close. He brought his hands up to her chest, taking her softly in both hands and kneading her. Her head dropped down and he could hear a small sound of pleasure escape her lips. He breathed in sharply, trying to contain himself. He knew he wouldn't last much longer. Leaning in, he kissed her neck and shoulders, moaning into her skin and he felt her arms wrap around him. His hands travelled over her chest and down her ribs to her back, his heart beating as she pulled him closer to her body, and closer between her legs. 

Wyatt pulled away when he felt her womanhood touch his belly, groaning deeply and gripping the ledge of the pool on either side of her with both hands. 

“What happened? Did I do something wrong?” Polli reached out and touched his face cautiously, her voice small and timid. 

“No, you did nothing wrong. I just..” he chuckled and looked away, his face best red. “I almost came…” he said in a quiet voice. She cocked her head to the side, her cheeks almost as red as his. 

“Well… why didn't you?” 

“I… I don't want to ruin the moment… I don't want this to be over.” 

“It won't be over…” she reached for a towel and lay it down on the ground before motioning for him to get out and join her. “In fact… I hope it's just starting.” 

Wyatt climbed out over the edge of the pool, his cock pressed against his stomach, the head almost purple with pressure. He heard her gasp as she lay down on her back and he climbed over her. Polli felt herself clench at the sight of him. His wondrous v-lines accentuated the small trail of hair that started on his chest and made its way over his stomach to come to rest, neatly trimmed and groomed between his legs. This was not the first time she had seen him naked, or aroused for that matter, but she had never taken the time to appreciate his form before. His eyes were dark with a deep and carnal need, and his skin glistened in the dim light. Her eyes darted down at him again. His uncut cock was impressive in size, veins wrapping around its thick base. 

The burns on his knees were blisterless, but they still protested as he put his weight on them. He slid his hand under her soaked undershirt to her right breast, holding it firmly as he sucked at the soft flesh of her neck. She cried out in pleasure and wriggled underneath him, pulling the shirt over her head and tossing it aside. Wyatt looked down to admire her chest, this time fully exposed. Her pinkish brown nipples starkly contrasted her sweet pale skin, and he moaned as he looked down her body. Her waist dipped gracefully in and widened at her hips, which were open beneath him. He could see her soft mound as her hips bucked towards him involuntary, which was covered in a patch of short trimmed hair. 

“By the stars, Polli…” he groaned as he took her in. “You are a goddess…” She smiled and blushed, murmuring a small thank you before his mouth crashed into hers. He wanted to touch every part of her at once, he didn't even know where to start. He ran his hands over her thighs, and cried out in surprise when he felt her small warm hand wrap around him. “Polli, I…” he gasped as she began to move her hand up and down. “Polli I can’t-” he groaned deeply as his hips thrust into her hand and he came, his white seed spurting over her belly and chest. She whined beneath him, and he looked down to see that she had been touching herself as he came. “Kriffing hell…” he gasped out, propping himself up beside her. “I-I'm sorry-”

“Don't be…” she looked away, a smile on her lips. “I enjoyed it… watching you… feeling you…” Wyatt leaned in to her neck before whispering in her ear. 

“Can I make it up to you?” She whined a small yes, and at that he reached for the second towel and wiped off her belly and chest slowly, admiring how beautiful she looked as she lay beneath him, covered in his seed. He had done that, she had let him do that, and she had enjoyed it as much as he did. If he hadn't been light headed before, he certainly was now. 

Sitting her up, he eased her to lay on him as he supported her from behind. One hand he used to prop them up, while the other traveled over her body. She squeaked and grabbed his unburned thighs when he took one of her breasts in his hand, squeezing and rolling the nipple between his fingers. He could already feel himself getting hard again. His hand left her breast and caressed her stomach, before dipping between her thighs. 

He moaned as he felt her dripping sex against his fingers. Of course, on Kamino the clones had been taught about sex and what it was, as well as various forms of foreplay, and those who had been lucky enough to experience it for themselves later on in life often shared tips with each other, but nothing could have prepared him for how she felt against his hand, her whimpering sighs, her hips bucking against him. The feeling of a woman, so trusting and vulnerable and at the mercy of his touch was an intoxicating drug to Wyatt, and he hit his high again when he slipped the first finger into her. 

“Dammit, Wyatt…” she gasped, her nails digging into his thighs as he moaned. “Please, must you torture me?” He dipped his finger in and out of her tight, wet entrance, her fluids coating his fingers as she bucked against him. She felt like warm, wet velvet, which pulsed around his finger as if it was trying to draw it deeper in. “Please…” she whined, her shoulders shaking against his chest. “Another finger, please…” his middle finger soon joined his ring finger, and the noise she made nearly brought him over the edge again. He pumped them in and out of her rhythmically, curling his fingers inside her like he had been told to. One of her hands reached up and grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling his head down lightly. This unexpected pain brought forth a groan from Wyatt, and he couldn't help but press his raging erection into her lower back. Polli’s breath quickened, and so did his pace and pressure, and when she put her other hand over her mouth she realized she was cumming. He shivered as he felt her walls clamp down on his fingers and her moans stifle against her own hand. He gently pulled his fingers out of her and rested them on her stomach as they both breathed heavily. Polli traced circles on his thigh, and he could tell she was smiling. 

“I hope this is what love feels like.”


	7. Chapter Seven

Bub came to wake Wyatt in the morning. The pet tittered and licked his face with that long silly tongue, nuzzling him as if to say “get up!” He heard the happy sound of Polli’s laughter as she walked down the hall towards his room. 

“Good morning there! I see Bub got to you first.” 

“Yes, is quiet an affectionate, er… creature.” Wyatt gently pushed the Flerdge off of him and sat up. She laughed again and kneeled down beside him. 

“I have good news for you this morning.” She seemed to glow as she removed the bandages from the day before. Her hair was twisted up into a high bun on the back of her head. Wyatt licked his lips subconsciously as he looked at her elegant neck. 

“What is it?”

“They have pushed the Separatists up and out of sector 1. There is chatter amongst our men that the battle should be over within the next few days! Then we will celebrate!” He smiled at her enthusiasm, but his gut sank in a foreboding twist. It was unusual for the Separatists to give up so easily, unless they had miscalculated. It reminded him of a time on Geonosis when a group of droids had been sent to take a supposedly abandoned Republic outpost. The clones stationed there had fought off their small numbers easily, but when the Separatists heard that their numbers were not enough, they tried their mission again, but this time with numbers ten times the original. Surely Commander Wolffe and Plo Koon would have thought of this already, but he felt it was his duty to make sure he was up to date in the situation. He would need to go see them today. 

“Your burns are much better this morning, see?” She gestured to the discolored brown and pink skin on his hips and knees. His ankles, shoulders, and neck were already scabbing and on their way to being fully healed. “The large blisters have popped overnight. I'm sure the, uh, soak last night aided with that.” Their eyes met and she smiled before looking away. 

“You look so sweet when you blush, Polli.” Wyatt said. He really meant it. 

“Stop it,” she joked, playfully pushing him. “You are healed enough to wear a tunic and visit the other wounded today. I'll have to bind you up first, though.” He blushed as she turned away to get the supplies she needed. He knew what she meant, but a childish part of him bubbled inside him, teasing him with the idea of what it would be like to be tied up and at her mercy. He banished the thought, afraid that maybe she would be able to tell what he was thinking by the guilty look on his face. However, if she could, she never made any mention of it. She wrapped his knees and hips in white cloth this time, instead of the disposable bandages she had used prior, and helped him carefully put on a set clothes typically worn by the men in the colony. It was comprised of soft undergarments and long slacks with a knee-length tunic and a belt to tie it with, all various shades of beige and cream. 

“You look very handsome,” Polli said quietly as she adjusted his tunic. “Just like one of us.” 

***

The colonists were curious about the clones and openly approached the wounded, asking all sort of questions about where in the Galaxy they had been and what battles they had fought. It was quite a sight to see, wounded clones brought to the common room to chat and eat and interact, and instead getting swarmed with civvies who never seemed to give them a moments peace. They had developed a fan base overnight.

Of course, the clones loved it. They got along with the men and were interested in the women, but most of all they were simply fascinated by the children. Due to hormonal therapy in utero and as young children, all clones were fully grown and trained before they reached what could be estimated to be their 12th birthday. Since it was not deemed “important information,” most clones didn't know the actual day they were born, or their precise ages. Many simply decided to pick a day of the year to celebrate. 

Although these children became working members of their society at what could be considered a young age in the republic, they still had what each clone didn't; parents and a childhood. The children seemed so eager to play with the clones and try on their armor, if they could get their hands on it. Some took it really well and got along with them, making a point in their daily schedule to play with the kids, while others were resentful or even afraid of the children. Wyatt himself wasn't so sure how he felt about the little ones. 

Polli had walked him to the sector 2 common room and left him with the other wounded clones there, who were propped up on various chairs or mats and chatting away with each other or civilians. She promised him she would be back in a couple hours while she worked her usual job in the intensive care healing room. He admitted to himself that he was sad to see her go. 

He hobbled over and sat with one of his corporals, a clone by the name of Twist, who was missing his left leg from the middle of the calf down. He did not seem to be in the best of moods. 

“Have you heard about the advancements on the front?” Twist grumbled.

“I have, and I must admit, it doesn't sound right.” Wyatt’s brows furrowed as he joined his brother in a mirror image of his scowl. 

“It's too easy, there's something going on. Commander Wolffe and General Koon think so too.” Wyatt was glad he wasn't the only one who found this situation odd. 

“They'll be back, and in greater numbers this time.” He kept his voice low, turning to face the corporal. “We've got to get the civvies out of here.”

“Yeah, there's a problem though,” Twist sneered. “They don't have anywhere to go. This is all they got.” 

“The forest nearby, that could offer some cover…”

“Not a good idea. The oxygen content on this planet is relatively high, and you know what that means? Shit gets huge out there. I'm talking massive bugs, things like moths with a 4 foot wingspan.” Twist gestured with his arms. “And don't even get me started on the carnivores. No wonder these colonists live underground.” He rolled his eyes and chuckled. 

“So they're stuck…” Wyatt looked at his hands in his lap. 

“Nah, mate, WE’RE stuck. They estimate the Seppies will be back before we've got a chance to get the wounded all off-world. So not only will we have civvies in danger, we'll have all our wounded too.” 

“Makes me wonder what's so damn important that they'd risk these colonists for it.” He shook his head. His brother grunted in agreement. 

“Yeah, me too.”


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: contains fluff, romance, and smut

The common rooms had been cleared of the makeshift living space, and those who still had quarters to go back to had moved into them again. Stores of chorba root and grain were opened, and the halls filled with the smells of fresh breads and sweets baking. Those who could play instruments set up in the middle of the common room, which had been converted to a dance hall. The last of the droids had been destroyed the day before, and now the colonists were going to celebrate. 

It had been a week since Wyatt had received the burns, and they were well on their way to healing. His skin was still swollen and tender, but it had scabbed over, and it seemed to Polli that he would recover just fine. She pleaded with him to join her in the makeshift dance hall, to sing and dance and eat with everyone, but mostly her. Despite the recent victory, the last thing Wyatt wanted to do was to celebrate. The threat of the separatist hung heavily over his head, but Polli remained blissfully ignorant. All of the civvies did; telling them about the impending invasion could spark panic, and only make a bad situation worse. 

She took his hand and pulled him to the dance floor, her naturally curly hair fanning out around her bare shoulders. Polli wore a white dress, which was fastened around the back of her neck and left a large portion of her back bare. Her belt was a deep maroon, a welcome pop of color amongst the colonists mostly plain clothes. Wyatt laughed and followed her, admiring her figure and her joyful nature. He had never seen her so playful, and it was like watching a wild animal in its natural habitat. The musicians played lively music off of their string instruments and deep drums, sending their sound pounding through the tunnels. Polli taught Wyatt to dance, and he learned quickly, letting his guard down for once and flying around in circles with her, like two tornados locked in a dangerous courtship. He could almost forget when he was with her, her brown eyes pulling him closer, her white teeth flashing when she smiled, that he was a soldier, and that she was a girl from the middle of nowhere. It was almost like they weren’t in the middle of a war, and that in the next couple days Wyatt wouldn’t be pulled from her arms and back to the battlefield. For the first time in his life, he didn’t want to put the armor back on, he didn’t want his gun in his hands, or to command his brothers to go into battle and fight a war that they would never be able to enjoy the spoils of. Wyatt felt selfish, and he liked it. 

The song slowed and he wrapped his arms around her and brought her close, swaying to the music. Polli’s eyes met his own, and it was like it was just them in that great hall. Her fingers curled around the fabric of his tunic and she put her head on his chest. Breathing him in, she swallowed nervously and held him tighter. She knew he would soon have to leave, but she didn’t want him to. Finally, she had found someone who she felt comfortable with, a man who made her feel completely safe and desirable. Her chest ached, banishing the thought that the man she held in her arms now could be dead in a week. She needed to be with him in this moment now. 

The song ended, and the couple walked off the dance floor and towards the food as the next one started up, more lively than the one before it. Polli insisted on feeding him different pastries made from the grain and chorba root grown in the tunnels he fought for, laughing as he stuffed chorba cakes into his mouth, eyes alight with hunger. 

“These are so good, how have I not had one before?” His mouth was very full, and made his speech almost beyond comprehension above the loud music. 

“You probably have, they just always taste better when they're fresh and handmade instead of made in a factory. Try this pudding!” They chatted and ate before sitting on the ground in the back of the hall, watching the colonists and the clones dance and sing along to the music. Wyatt spotted Twist across the way, leaning on a crutch, his head nodding up and down to the beat and a contented look on his face. He thought it was good for the corporal to relax. They would need it in the coming days. Wyatt’s smile melted and he felt a bit sick to his stomach.

“Hey, let's get out of here.” Polli’s voice whispering in his ear brought him back to attention. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Just… come with me.” She shook her head, a smile on her face. Her hand slipped into his, and the two of them snuck off into the tunnels without so much as a glance back. They had no idea that someone saw them, a clone with a scar over his right eye and a thorn in his side. Wolffe’s eyes narrowed as he watched his sargent slip away with that pretty girl into the night. 

Polli locked the door behind them and turned the light low. Her grin was playful as she lead Wyatt into the master bedroom, where he had spent his days recovering from the burns. However, since he had healed enough to go back and sleep in the common room with his brothers, the room had been transformed back to its original decor. A smooth mat of woven reeds covered the floor and a thick mattress lay in the middle of the room, neatly made up with blankets and pillows. A small bookshelf sat in the corner, well-worn books stuffing its shelves and a lamp sitting on top. Sheer white fabric draped from the ceiling over the bed, glowing in the warm light.

“What are you doing?” Wyatt asked, even though he was very sure he knew.

“Teaching you to dance…” Her smile was mischievous but her eyes said she was just as nervous as Wyatt felt. She lay down on the bed, leaving a spot for him beside her. Her dress and hair lay fanned out around her small frame, which his eyes graciously devoured. “Come, lay down with me.” Her voice was small and she reached out her hand for him. “I know you’re nervous tonight, but please, I don’t want to spend this evening any other way.” Wyatt smiled and took off his tunic, leaving it on the floor and crawling over her, his mouth covering hers in a deep kiss. Her hands touched him carefully, tracing over his unburnt cheeks, chest and arms. She moaned into his mouth and he felt himself begin to grow in arousal. 

“Polli… are you sure?” His hands were in her hair, stroking its soft strands between his fingers. “I know someone has hurt you in the past… I do not want you to feel that you have to do with.”

“But I want to…” her breath was warm against his neck, and he shivered in pleasure. 

“If at any point, you don’t want to, please tell me. The last thing I want to do is to make you uncomfortable.” 

“Everything about you makes me comfortable.” She reached back and began to untie her dress from around her neck. The fabric came loose in his hands as he undid her belt, gently unwrapping her like a present. She had him take off his slacks, and they lay in their undergarments, looking curiously at each other. Their skin glowed in the light, and it felt like a dream. Their mouths collided again, both of their chests tightening in a silent need and a quiet pain of knowing this would not last forever. 

Polli was still as shy as if she had never seen him naked before, as if this was the very first time she had felt his hands slide over her flesh. He whispered in her ear as he explored her body again, taking in each detail, each curve and stretch mark, as if it was fine wine on his lips.

“Polli… you made me realize something important about myself, and about the world… sometimes, we are so busy being strong that we forget to cherish the soft things in life. I want to cherish you… you deserve to be cherished… You have been shaped by your past, and to me you are perfect. I wouldn’t have you any other way.” 

He positioned himself in front of her wet entrance, and with her permission he eased into her. Their bodies began to move together, slowly at first, but their pace increased as their passion did. Polli’s soft moans filled the room, and Wyatt’s vicious snarls filled her ear. With a final grunt he pulled out and finished on her thigh, his cheeks flushed. He had lasted longer than in the bathhouse, but he was still embarrassed about his virginal movements and lack of stamina. 

“I, I’m sorry, I-” she stopped his apology with a long kiss.

“Don’t be sorry, we are figuring this out together.” 

“Let me clean you up,” he sat up on the edge of the bed. He felt her hand stroke his back. 

“Ok, the bathroom is the first door on the right, but come right back.” 

Wyatt looked in the mirror in the bathroom. He didn’t look any different, maybe his hair was a little messy, but he was still himself. But at the same time he felt different. Part of him felt proud; he had just bedded a beautiful woman who he cared for, but the other part felt ashamed. ‘What have you done?’ it asked him. ‘You are getting her hopes up. You cannot care for her, you have a war to fight. You will break her heart.’ He sighed and grabbed a towel, his brow furrowed in thought. What would she do when we was gone? Who would take care of her? ‘She will take care of herself.’ and he left it at that. 

His hands were gentle as he cleaned her, kissing her warm skin and running his lips over her thighs. She twitched in pleasure, looking down at him with half-closed eyes as she ran her hands through his hair. Her bare sex was exposed to him, and he subconsciously ran his tongue over his lips. Eyes locked, he slowly leaned in, opening his mouth and carefully observing her reactions.

She did not taste how he had expected; she tasted warm, with a dull taste of something salty or metallic as an undertone. Polli’s hips bucked towards his mouth as he lapped at her folds, one strong hand on her thigh and another teasing her opening. Just like the rest of her, it was soft and delicious, and the sounds she made were higher than any form of praise. As she reached her climax, her back arched and Wyatt glanced up, the image of her pale stomach and breasts in the air forever etched into his memory, tucked away to be savored and relieved many times over. 

He lay his head on her stomach, his hand cupping her pulsing womanhood and her hands running through his hair. 

“Stay with me… please…” Her vulnerable whisper meant more than just a nighttime invitation, and they both knew it. He sighed and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his head on her chest and listening to her breath. 

“I will.” He only addressed her first request, his stomach twisting in inner conflict.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this far! There is definitely more to come. This story is helping me to work through some of my own past; Polli isn't the only one who has had someone mistreat her that way. It's helping me gain confidence in myself and in men again, and I think that is very important. 
> 
> Please leave a comment, I would love to hear from you! And thanks again!


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: descriptions of death and injury ahead

“Wake up.” 

Wyatt sat up instantly, his skin breaking out in a cold sweat. Wolffe leaned against the doorway, inspecting his fingernails. He looked down in embarrassment, quickly using the covers to shield Polli’s naked form from Wolffe’s eyes. He did not bother to cover himself; they shared the same body anyways. 

“You’re late.” The commander’s scowl was deeper, and Wyatt began to throw on his clothes, which lay discarded on the floor from the night before. 

“How did you get in?” For a clone, Wyatt had a relatively calm temperament, but the thought of someone intruding into his- well, her- bedroom and so intruding on the aftermath of something sacred caused his chest to tighten in anger. 

“I’m your captain, I have my ways…” Wolffe’s voice was a growl. “If I hadn’t come to get you after your little ‘adventure,’ you would be very late for this morning's briefing. We are preparing to fortify the colony to extract the deposits and leave as quickly as possible.” 

“What of the colonists?” Wyatt's eyes traced over the sleeping woman under her blanket. 

“That is none of your concern.” A hand gripped his shoulder, and he turned to see his commander glaring into his identical eyes. “Don’t get too attached. We’re soldiers, they have no business loving us.” With that he turned and marched out with Wyatt reluctantly in tow, looking over his shoulder one more time. 

***

Dust fell from the ceiling of the debriefing room, and all five sets of amber eyes turned upwards. 

“They’re back…”

“So soon?”

“Lets go, get to your companies!” 

Wyatt raced down the corridors, splitting up from the others and making his way to sector 2. He had to get his men above ground. The separatists were most likely using drill ships, which penetrated directly into the ground, destroying underground structures and ejecting droids like a damn virus. He had been ordered to get his men up top before they were all buried, possibly forever. They had been given direct orders not to inform the colonists what was happening; their panicked escape attempts would clog the exits and make it harder for the clones to get above ground to fight. Wyatt felt helpless; there was nothing he could do to, no way he could help them.

Sunlight nearly blinded him after more than a week underground. The battle on the surface had just begun, and he ordered his men into a full forward attack; there was no cover close by to shoot from anyways. Those animated metal carcasses poured out of ships, row after row of droids with their blasters aimed at them. Neither party had any true cover, and it resorted to a full on shootout. 

The companies made a crude circle around the ships, attempting to keep them from spreading out. It all seemed to be working until there was the familiar sound of lightsabers coming alive. Not one, not two, but four, twisting and cutting in the mechanical arms of the cackling General Grievous. Armor-clad bodies dropped like flies, the air filling with the sound of cries of pain and the smell of cooked meat. 

“Grievous, we meet again.” Plo Koon approached the wheezing can of organs, his single lightsaber standing bravely again the General’s four. 

“Ah, Plo Koon.” The cyborg abomination advanced towards the Jedi, the bodies of clones crunching under his metal feet. “I wonder, what will your flesh look like when I cut you open.”

“It is a pity you will never have the chance to find out.” With a shriek, the Separatist engaged, the blades colliding and whirling in a tumultuous flury. 

Colonists began to emerge like ants from a flooding hill, screaming and running in a panicked frenzy. Their bodies littered the plains as the droids began to target them specifically, all but ignoring the clones as they mowed the civilians down.

“Wyatt! Lead the colonists into that forest!” Wolffe commanded into Wyatt’s headpiece. It may not be safe, but at least it was cover.

“Yessir!” He relayed the orders to his men, who began to funnel the people towards the edge of the trees, a seemingly endless quarter mile sprint away from the colony. 

Each droid that fell from his blasts fell so that Polli and her people could survive. They were caught in the crossfire, quite literally, of this kriffing war that they had nothing to do with. He let the fire inside turn his vision red, screaming as he charged alongside his brothers. It wasn’t fair, any of it, and this was the only time he felt he could get just a drop of respitance as a byproduct of it. We would go down kicking and fighting, but he would take a whole army down with him if he could. 

The stream of people turned into a steady trickle, flowing towards those towering columns of bark and greenery. 

“Wyatt, take your men with them! Defend them! We will come get you when we have this more under control!” 

“Yessir! Go, go, go! To the trees!” As he turned his back on the battle, he saw the trail of armorless bodies. He had seen dead civvies before, but this brought tears to his eyes. How many of these people did he dance with in the common room last night? How many of them thought it was all over as they turned in to go to bed, that they could go back to their simple lives? 

He herded them like sheep, his men making a loose white bracelet around the beige and brown others. Those soft tunics and slacks were not meant for sprinting, for running for your life, but they pushed as hard as they could. In the masses, Wyatt squinted as he spotted a familiar form. Sure enough, it was Polli, her arm wrapped around the shoulder of a one-legged clone who he guessed must be Twist. They bravely trekked on, but he could see they were falling behind as the others surged forward. 

He broke formation, sprinting with his head down, a mad bull running towards a red cape. He was breathless when he reached them.

“Polli! Give him to me!” She looked up at him with a pale face and red eyes. She squinted, as if trying to see through his helmet.

“Wyatt?”

“Now! Run!” Wyatt slung his brother over his shoulder and gave Polli a gentle shove forward. With fear written all over her, she turned and ran, hair wild behind her. He grunted and plodded forward, keeping pace with the other clones. Red blaster bullets flew around them as they retreated, the tree line inching closer at an agonizing pace. Wyatt kept his eyes on Polli’s form, following her from a ways back.

He couldn't understand what his eyes were seeing when she fell. Maybe she had tripped, but she didn’t move to get back up.

“Polli!” He stormed up to her body on the ground, carefully putting Twist down a couple feet away. “Polli, get up!” There was a black hole in her lower back over her left hip. It sizzled like meat on a grill. “Oh, stars, get up!” He took off his helmet to take a closer look. She was still breathing, her eyes fluttering and her mouth open in a silent, agonized scream. 

“Wyatt!” He turned to face Twist, who crawled closer. “Lets go!”

“I can’t! I…” His breath was coming too fast. His head felt light. “I can’t lose her!” Twist shook his head, waving another trooper closer to give him a lift. “Polli!” He put his helmet back on and picked her up, hugging her to his chest as she wailed. The trees were so close, maybe another 100 yards. Soon he was into their leafy cover, but the panic didn’t fade. He was torn; he had men to lead, but he needed to make sure she was safe.

“Over here!” Twist waved, sitting in the cover of a thick bramble. He ran over and laid her down on her stomach next to the corporal. 

“Guard her.” 

“With my life.” Wyatt nodded and turned to head for the edge of the forest, joining his men in fending off the droids that had decided to follow them into the dark canopy.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: graphic depictions of pain, war violence, and wounds ahead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for updating this story late, my life suddenly got super busy about a month ago! Now I have more time to put in the proper thought to my characters and stories. Hope you enjoy!

There was wet dirt and leaves in her mouth, but that didn't matter because her back was on fire. Polli’s eyes rolled back and she grunted unintelligibly, clawing at the ground to try to hold onto something, to try to make the pain stop. The world was blurry and spinning as she arched her back and cried out, her hand latching onto something solid and smooth. 

“Help…” the searing pain was too much for tears. She could feel her nerves fire around the blaster wound, like the roots of trees, all tangled and interlacing. 

“Please, don't move.” That voice was so familiar. 

“Wyatt?” She tried to bring into focus the shiny, white, and vaguely humanoid blob which she clung to. 

“No, it's-” his voice became a mixture of muffled sounds and she ceased to be able to understand what he was saying. 

“Make it... stop…” everything was spinning, and Polli thought she might throw up. The clone kept talking to her, but she still couldn't make out anything he said. 

“Wyatt…” she whined. “I'm sorry… I wasn't… fast enough…” the world became dark and she was grateful when unconsciousness enveloped her. 

***

Rain pattered softly down from the canopies of the giant trees. The air was cold as evening came on, and the colonists were again unnaturally silent, making camp and speaking only with strained voices and rapid hand gestures. Already the predators had begun to stalk the wounded, who had been relocated to one of the makeshift tents and surrounded by torches after the fourth survivor was dragged off screaming into the brush. 

Nine hours had passed since the separatist reinforcements had arrived, and it was only around hour seven that supplies and medical help began to appear from the ship. They were stuck until a larger cruiser could make time to help get the civvies and the wounded off-world. Meanwhile, they were living in tents with little food and a couple of med-droids, as the clones worked to support and calm the hundreds of scared colonists. 

Polli had been one of the first civvies to be taken into surgery, due to the fact that she was at risk for partial paralysis from the placement of her wound. Twist sat with her as the med-droid carefully tried to fix her unconscious body. 

“Will she ever walk again?” Twist looked at the floor, his single foot tapping nervously. He barely knew her; she had tended to him in the urgent care center when he lost his leg in an explosion on the surface, but when he was put into the long term care unit, he hadn't seen any more of her. That is, except for the night of the dance. He felt happy for his Sargent as he twirled this pretty girl around and around to music. He had also noted that at some point during the evening the couple vanished, probably to find someplace more private. 

“It is unlikely that she will.” The droids cheerful voice chirped. Twist suppressed a groan. “The blast was mostly absorbed by the iliac crest of her pelvis, damaging the posterior sacroiliac ligament and the supraspinous ligament, as well as the inferior oblique abdominal muscle and the-” 

“In basic, please, none of this medical gibberish.” 

“The bone of her hip absorbed most of the damage, as well as the surrounding ligaments and muscles. I will be able to prep this wound for more intensive surgery on a cruiser, but that is all. Sir, she would be the perfect candidate for a new surgical procedure that the Republic is developing.” Twist’s interest piqued at that. “With her consent or the consent of a spouse or relative, she could undergo the procedure, in which tissue samples would be collected, reproduced, and then 3D printed directly onto the wound sight, recreating what was lost. If you are her spouse, you could answer for her and I will sign her up for-” 

“Uh, no, I'm not her husband.” Twist waved his hands and blushed. “I'm just here because my Sargent told me to watch over her. If anything, you should be talking to him, uh-”

“What is his assigned number?” 

“CT 4899.”

***

Wyatt noted how pale her skin was as he sat beside her on the ground. She was wrapped up in a sleeping bag, laying on her stomach on a mat in the cavernous tent designated to the wounded. It was nearly midnight when the droids finally turned their forces back towards the underground city and away from the clones and civvies in the trees. Those tireless machines had worn down the meager clone forces, but someone still had to stand watch against the strange creatures of the alien night. Wyatt set up the first watch with a couple other men, patrolling the camp of around 1,000 people in total. Groups of civvies ranging from a handful of people to over forty were beginning to show up from the forest, having run too deep in and suffered the consequences of small numbers. Wyatt's eyes began to close on their own as he lay on the bare ground next to Polli, taking off only his helmet as he yawned. The second watch had been organized, and now it was his time to rest. He would process this in the morning. 

***

If she had not been breathing, Wyatt would have assumed she was dead. His brow furrowed in concern as he chewed his rations, watching the patterns of the shadow leaves on the tent wall. He had seen many of his brothers die, fall to the heat of a blaster, never to get back up, but somehow this was different. She should not wake up every morning wondering if she would live to see the sun set. She had not been trained, had not been battle hardened from a young age. She was not told that she was the pride of the Republic, nor was she expected to die for it. She was the reason he existed, to protect people like her, and yet she was the one who lay irreparably damaged and he lived to see another day. For some reason he could not identify, this deeply bothered him. 

He was also bothered by the fact that she had not regained consciousness. She had been put under for surgery yesterday, and the drugs should have worn off hours ago, and yet she still lay unmoving. Perhaps she was recovering from the shock of it all, he pondered. Wyatt decided he should go find Twist and ask him how her surgery went. 

Row after row of cots were filled with the suffering bodies of clones and civilians alike. He was not sure if Twist’s leg would be treated at all, since it was not a wound received within the last 24 hours. That is why he did a double-take when he spotted the corporal laying with those who had recently exited surgery. 

“Twist,” Wyatt greeted him, sitting on the ground next to the resting soldier, who opened his eyes and nodded. Neither seemed to want to acknowledge the elephant in the room first.

“They offered me this or a mechanical one. I’d rather be dead before I’d have to walk with a clanker foot.”

“There’s no need to explain yourself, brother.” Both men eyed Twist’s new foot. It looked exactly like his old one, even underneath all those bandages, and there was no guessing where it came from. 

Clones who were deemed “unsalvageable” either physically or mentally often became spare parts for others. A limb transplant was simple enough, given the right supplies, and so Twist had been given a chance to walk again, though he hated to think at what expense. Had his brother been alive when they harvested his leg, half dazed from painkiller but under no anesthesia, as was typical? Or had his heart stopped beating during surgery, and his body had simply still been warm when the offer was made? They both felt slightly sick. There was no denying their existence was a cruel and miserable one. 

“How was her surgery?” Wyatt asked, his eyes never leaving the new limb. 

“It went well enough, but she may never walk again.” The men were silent. “Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Unless she’s willing to go under the knife for a new type of experimental surgery. The med-droid mentioned it, something about 3D printing flesh or something. They would need her consent first, but then they could begin the procedure as soon as she boards the cruiser.”

“She isn’t conscious yet…”

“That’s… not good.” 

“No, its not,” Wyatt sighed as he stood. “Thank you. For watching her, I mean.” 

“You’re welcome. Good luck,” Twist chuckled as he closed his eyes again. “You’re going to need it.” 

“I know.”


End file.
